


fare thee well

by hardlygolden



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlygolden/pseuds/hardlygolden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunith says goodbye, slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fare thee well

Merlin was snoring again – although he’d deny it in the morning – and if tomorrow was to be an ordinary morning she would tease him about it, and try to pretend that the last few hours had never happened. But they had, and it had been so close – too close – and Merlin had nearly been caught practicing magic.

 

Not that magic had ever been something Merlin had had to _practice, _Hunith thought despairingly, it seemed to come to him as easy as breathing. 

 

He looked younger in sleep – sprawled across his bed in the corner of their small cottage. The dim light from the flickering candle painted shadows on his face. She stared at him, memorising the curve of his cheeks, the ridiculous jut of his ears.

 

It wasn’t safe for Merlin here, anymore. Tonight was proof enough of that. Next time, he would be caught – oh, and there would be a next time.

 

It was dangerous enough when Will had found out – but that was years ago, now, and Will had staunchly defended Merlin in ways she would never have been able to. No, Will knowing had been a blessing in disguise.

 

An entire village knowing, though – well. That is what would happen if Merlin were to stay here much longer. Perhaps it would be a day, perhaps a week, perhaps a year. She didn’t know when – all she knew was that it would happen. Merlin would be found out. Of course, one day Merlin’s power would be impossible to ignore, in the same way you cannot hide a blaze under a straw hut – but not now, not when he was still so young, so unaware of the ways of the world.

 

The problem with Ealdor was no different than any small village. People talked, people noticed things – especially the things you hoped they wouldn’t.

 

Really, it was a miracle that they’d got through Merlin’s childhood with no-one else stumbling across his secret, save Will. And certainly it was due to dumb luck rather than any particular native cunning on Merlin’s behalf, although Hunith had had to tell several baldfaced lies in the past – although in the past, Merlin’s magic had been confined to smaller things. Not that turning milk _purple_ had been easy to explain, mind you, but it had at least been easier to hide.

 

But as Merlin grew, so too did his magic. She could feel it even now, as he slept. It hummed low in her ears the way it always did whenever he was near – and she would miss that, too, the sound as dear to her as the sight of him – because Merlin was magic was Merlin, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

 

She supposed, in a few hours, she wouldn’t have to imagine.

 

She shivered – and instantly the candle light reared up to fill the room, a reassuring glow that warmed her. That it was Merlin’s doing, she was certain of it, and further testament to why he could no longer stay here. He was too familiar with Ealdor, too at ease here. He needed somewhere where he could lose himself in the crowds, somewhere where he could live his life undetected; with someone who knew what on earth one did with a young man who had more power than sense, and a heart inversely proportionate to his instincts of self-preservation.

 

She stroked his forehead, softly, so as not to wake him. He stirred in his sleep, moved one hand in a vague half-gesture towards her. It was an old habit of his, a remnant from childhood that he’d never completely grown out of, this unconscious yearning for things out of his reach.  

 

She sighed as she pulled out some parchment, and she didn’t cry and her hands were steady as she picked up her quill and her writing was as neat as it had ever been.

 

_Dear Gaius, _the letter began - and destiny followed.

 

*


End file.
